\" Lucy fought to resist the compulsion to 45 fold her arms over her chest. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you. Wow.
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